“Ah, ah,ah,” she hisses, and then stumbles back, breathing hard. She rests the gloves on her knees. “This is more tiring than it looks.”
“You’re doing very well,” I tell her seriously.
A fleeting smile flashes across her face, then she murmurs, “But what would I do if he grabbed me?”
My body stirs, the savage emerging. I’m very aware we’re alone.
“There are techniques,” I say. “I usually show beginners what to do if, somehow, their attacker ends up on top of them. But we don’t need to?—”
She bites the Velcro of one glove and rips it loose. “If we’re going to do this, I want to do it properly.”
“Uh, sure.”
As I take off the pads, I remind myself what this is. A self-defense lesson, not a chance for me to get up and close to that body of hers.
She deserves better than that.
Better than me.
CHAPTER 8
ELARA
It’s impossible not to look at him in this world of mirrors. He’s wearing a gray compression shirt so tight it looks painted onto his sculpted body. His pecs are huge. The hard ridges of his abs show clearly through the material. Shorts that show his muscled legs… and, if he got excited, I know they’d show everything else too.
He approaches me slowly, as if he thinks I’m going to run.
“Shall we get started?” I say, too snappy, but I can’t help it.
“You need to lie on your back,” he says huskily.
I lie down and stare up at him. My heart pounds hard, my every nerve on fire, my body feeling supersensitive. He works his jaw, his hands twitching at his sides.
“The idea is to off-balance them,” he says. “That’s the main thing, and you have to befast. The second they’re on top of you, before they can start hitting, you disrupt their base… their balance. That forces them to plant their hands on the ground. If they do that, they can’t hit you. Then you get vicious, Elle. Yougo for the eyes. The balls. You getbrutal, because if you don’t, you’re giving them a chance to let out their dark side.”
I swallow. He doesn’t need to hammer this point home. I remember it all too well.
“Are you going to show me?” I ask, my mouth dry.
But the aching, trembling truth is… somewhere elseisn’tdry. For the first time in years, I feel the tickle of tension between my thighs. My folds rub against my underwear. My nub aches. I shouldn’t trust this man so easily. But lying on my back for him, I feel safer than I ever have, and that’s the insane truth.
“Sure,” he says, his voice growing hoarse.
He lowers himself to his knees in front of me, hesitating.
“Don’t make it weird,” I say.
“Huh?”
“If you need me to sign a waiver or something to say you’re not a perv, then whatever. But can we get on with the lesson, please?”
His lip twitches into a smile. My cheeks heat up, like they’re determined to do whatever I’m around him.
He seems to like it when I sass him. That’s a pleasant change from most men.
“Let’s say I end up on top of you.”
He climbs atop me, and lays his weight gently against me. The hard edges of his muscles press against my body. I can tell he’s holding a lot back, keeping most of it away from me. But I still feel his power.
